


Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown

by flightinflame



Series: The Genoshan Prince [5]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik Has Feelings, Gen, HBIC Emma Frost, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Male-Female Friendship, Prequel, Protective Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 21:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20982389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: The old king is dead. Long live the king.





	Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown

**Author's Note:**

> For "Loss of Vision" for hurt/comfort bingo.

"Long live the king." That was Azazel's voice, breaking the silence. There was blood dripping from one of his knives, after he arrived in a burst of black smoke.

Long live the king indeed. The bastard was dead. 

Erik, and it was Erik now, looked down at the body, staring. After so many years, when the time had come killing him had been - well, if not easy, it had been easier than they could have expected. The plan had gone without a hitch. He could never have hoped that it would be like this, that they'd succeed - but they had. Emma had held him and he had killed him, and it was over.

Azazel and Janos were deep in silent conversation, their hands flickering eagerly, Janos gazing up at the demonic-looking man, and then the two of them disappeared in a puff of smoke. Erik watched them leave, and wanted to laugh, or scream, or sob. He wanted, needed, to just curl up for a little while, to try and process what had happened. He couldn't help poking at the corpse with his foot, just to check this wasn't all a dream. It was real. There was blood on his shoes.

"So what now, sugar?" Emma asked, walking over and resting her hand on his shoulder. "Because right now, you look... Well, you look like you're about to cry, and we don't need that from you." She smartened his clothes, adjusting the fall of his cape. "You're king now darling, you better act like it."

Erik looked up at her, trying to blink back tears. He took a slow, deep breath, his voice shaking a little.  
"Emma, I don't think that I can do this."

She put her hands on her hips, looking down at him.  
"Well now sugar, it has to be you, for two reasons. One, I don't want to be in charge, and two, you don't want me in charge." She reached out, tilting his chin up with a manicured nail.

He managed a faint smile at that, and leaned his head against her hand for a moment. For once, she didn't push him away.  
_You really think I can do this?_ he asked softly, and tried to pretend that he was confident. They both knew that he had spoken mentally because he didn't know if he could speak aloud.

"It's a bit late to be having doubts now," she pointed out, staring at the slowly increasing pool of blood. 

Erik nodded, squaring his shoulders. He wasn't sure if he could do this. If he could do any of this. But Emma was right, it was too late for doubting himself now. It was just that for months he'd been caught up in planning how they could do it, moving the pieces into play - like playing chess with Mama, if the game had been for real lives. He hadn't allowed himself to think of what came after.

He reached out, kicking the remains of the collar Janos had worn, and then calling up thin scraps of it, entwining them with the metal already around his arms.

"Anyway," Emma said, and she was a little quieter now. "You won't make more of a mess of this than he did." 

Erik nodded, thinking of the murders he had witnessed, the torture he had seen - no. Emma was right. He could do better than that. Which admittedly was a low bar.  
"My mother used to... she told me, when we fled our homeland, that I'd find a home here. That Genosha would welcome me with open arms." He heard Emma's scoff, and chose to ignore it. "I... I can do that. Can't I?"

"You have to figure that out for yourself sunshine," Emma answered. "I'll watch the door. You take a minute, and then when Janos finally lets Azazel up for air we can work our next steps." With that, she stepped outside, leaving Erik alone with the body and his thoughts.

He would have to rebuild. To take a nation that had been living under terror, and make it something good. He knew the strength of their army, the skill of their fighters. But if he was going to succeed he would need to do more than just win battles.

He reached out, picked up the crown from the corpse's head. He stared at it, stripping away the jewels and letting them fall onto the blood. He took some of the metal, added it to the vambraces, and then shaped the rest.

It felt wrong there. Like a child playing dress up. He snorted, and cast it aside. He'd rule without one. 

The smell of blood was overpowering, and he could hear Azazel's voice outside. He pushed open the door of the cabin, met Emma's eyes.  
"Burn it."

The sun rose on his kingdom, as he watched the flames devour the old king's rooms. Emma stood by his side, silent.

As the camp began to come alive, he turned away. He had better things to do than watch the old world turn to ash.


End file.
